


Paths Cross

by SegaBarrett



Series: Gloria Storia [1]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, I don’t even know, John works hard even from the afterlife, Read Trigger Warnings Please, Saving Someone’s Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: A chance meeting on a December evening.Please read the TWs before proceeding. Thank you.





	Paths Cross

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don’t know John Lennon nor do I know Gloria C. 
> 
> A/N 2: this came about partially after reading an article that Gloria is still with her prize of a husband like why
> 
> I also wrote this because my cat died and my heart needed to do something so it wrote whatever this is 
> 
> TW: Douchebag (you all know who I mean) isn’t in this but his wife is. He is alluded to only briefly as he is a waste.

Upstate New York gets bitterly cold in early December, the kind of cold that gets into a person’s bones and refuses to let go.

The woman who was making her way around the corner with the help of a wooden cane had grown up in one of the warmest climates of the United States, and after thirty-nine years she still wasn’t used to New York winters.

Maybe her old home had just been a dream in her past. It hadn’t been much of one, not all the time, not often, but it had been bright and warm. It was only cold and icy here. 

She would have to hurry if she wanted to get to the supermarket before it closed. They were calling for snow, too. If she got snowed in there it would be a rough couple of days. 

She stepped out into the street, one hand in her pocket and the other wrapped around the top of the cane. 

The 18-wheeler turned and barreled towards her before she heard or even saw it. The headlights were blinding and she cried out, dropping the cane and putting up both hands in some kind of last-ditch effort to PUSH the truck away from her. 

The horn honked. 

And the next thing she felt was a weight smacking her sideways and careening into the pavement with the force of it. 

The wind was knocked out of her and the truck honked once more for good measure before speeding along on its way. 

The figure on top of her stood up and offered her his hand, which she took. He offered her the cane, next, and as she looked up she dropped it and let out a low gasp. 

The man was a fair bit taller than her, dressed in a black of jeans and a T-shirt with a black leather jacket thrown over it. 

He had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and was wearing a pair of circular sunglasses. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Chapman.”

She hit the pavement again. 

***

“Not the first time I’ve had that reaction,” John Lennon quipped. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out for, but he was pulling her back up for the second time in ten minutes. 

“No,” she whispered, “Don’t. I... Please.”

John’s brow creased, looking her up and down. 

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Then why?”

John looked at her and jerked his finger in the direction of the street. 

“You planning on getting out of here?” He asked a second later. “Now‘s a good a time as any. Life begins at...?”

“63?” She squeaked out. 

“63. Works for me.”

“I... can’t. I don’t know.”

John sighed and ran a hand through his own hair. 

“And get out of this weather. It must be near 15 degrees.”

“You’re out in it.”

John looked at Gloria like she was stupid. Then he smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a white carnation and handing it to her. 

“Think about it. Until then, Yoko has tickets for us for Hamilton. Box Five.”

He walked away, hands in his pockets. 

“Have a good night, Gloria.”


End file.
